Show You How It's Done
by Miss Feline
Summary: preRENT. Maureen shows Mark how it's done.


Mark buried his head in his hands, sinking down onto a park bench. He couldn't handle it anymore, he didn't think. Everything was wrong, just so wrong. Everything wasn't how he imagined it to be; he was supposed to become this world-renound filmmaker that every struggling artist (and really, was there any artist that _wasn't_ struggling?) admired. He was supposed to inspire people. And not have to eat rice cakes every God damn day.

It was days like these that made him wish he was back in Scarsdale. A disturbing thought, but it was tempting. He could live in his parents' basement and he wouldn't_ have to pay rent. _And maybe his mother would set him up with some Jewish girl he used to know when they were kids and 'Oh, my little bubbala, I found you a wife!'. And even though he hated blind dates, he didn't want to be alone.

He really didn't want to be alone.

Roger had April, and he was jealous. Mark would never admit it, but he was. Roger has someone that loved him, and even though their relationship was dysfunctional at best, April loved him back. He had someone to talk to about things, someone to hold. Mark had missed holding someone, even though that sounded stupid. He missed being loved by someone.

He kicked one of the legs of the bench, sliding the camera strap off his neck. It was hot, and Mark swiped a bead of sweat off his forehead with his finger. He leaned back against the bench, just watching the sunset. He realized just how beautiful the sunset was, so he turned on his little 16mm Bolex and filmed the orange and pink streaks across the sky.

"Can I sit here?"

Mark looked up and almost gasped. Then he realized how dorky that would've seemed, but the woman standing before him was definitely gasp-worthy. Her long, curly hair fell across her shoulders, and she was wearing a pair of leather pants (which meant that she must've shopped at the same store Roger did) that hugged her legs so tightly that Mark wondered if she even _could_ sit down. Still, he nodded his head, practically gawking at her.

"Thanks," she said raspily as she slumped down onto the bench. "My day's been crap."

Mark was slightly taken aback, but made a sympathetic face. She took this as a cue to continue.

"So, basically my boyfriend dumps me, right?" she starts, turning her body towards him. "And then he totally calls my job and tells them that all those sick days I took? Yeah, they were to spend time with him. Which, I guess is true, or whatever, but he's the one that asked me to! And, whatever. So, now I'm fired. I don't have a job, a boyfriend, any of that. Oh, is that a camera?!"

Mark, who was supremely confused by this change in tone, furrowed his eyebrows. One second, she was complaining about how horrible her life was, and the next, she was drawn to his camera like ants to a Jolly Rancher.

"Yeah," he said cautiously, gripping it tightly.

"It's so...old," she observed, squinting at it. "A Bolex, right?"

Mark nodded his head. "I've had it since I was 17. Are you a photographer, or something?"

"No, an _actress_," she said dramatically. "I'm Maureen."

"Mark," he told her, smiling. It wasn't every day that he found a drop-dead gorgeous woman that knew cameras _and_ would talk to him. Now that he thought about, that was actually kind of pathetic. "Do you live around here?"

Maureen grinned at him, nodding. "Of course; East Village or bust!"

He laughed a little, finally breaking out of his comfort zone.

"So, Mark," Maureen said flirtatiously. "Do you make movies?"

"Huh?" Mark said dumbly before looking down at his camera. "Oh, yeah. Although...I'm still trying to find my inspiration."

Maureen shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe you already found it, you just don't know it's there."

"Yeah, maybe," Mark said, biting the inside of his mouth. Maybe she was right. Maybe he already knew what he was supposed to be doing...he just didn''t know it. Did that make any sense?

"I'm hungry," Maureen whined, grabbing at her stomach. "God, I should've stolen something from Scott's apartment."

"Who's Scott?"

"My boyfriend," Maureen shook her head. "I mean, ex-boyfriend."

Mark felt horrible for her; she had nowhere to go...she was alone. Kind of like him. And besides, her grumbling stomach reminded him of his own. "Do you wanna come back to my place?"

Maureen smirked. "You're a forward guy, Mark."

"No, I mean for dinner," Mark blurted, although he couldn't help but wish that he _was_ that forward. "I don't have that much food, though. Just...beer, I guess. And maybe cereal, if we're lucky."

Maureen giggled. "You know what? I'm fine with that."

* * *

Maureen dug her spoon into the cereal; Mark was out of milk...at least, milk that hadn't expired seven months ago. This morning, she never would've thought that she'd be in a shabby apartment in Avenue B, eating dry cereal with a pale filmmaker. And yet, here she was, and she was actually enjoying it. Sure, maybe Mark wasn't gorgeous. But he was kind of cute, in a geeky sort of way. She'd never been with a guy like that before, but there was a first time for everything. And besides, it wasn't like this thing was going to be long term. Just a little bit of fun to cheer her up.

"You know," she told him, swallowing down some cereal. "I've never had sex with a filmmaker."

Mark choked on his cereal, face turning red. He coughed once, and then said in an adorably raspy voice: "I...uh..."

"It's true," Maureen replied. "I've slept with a lot of actors...and then there was that one time in high school with the school mascot. He was an owl...or an eagle? Some kind of bird." She leaned over the table, smiling at him as she pressed her mouth against his ear.

"Maureen," he said in a shaky voice, gripping the table. "I..."

She put her lips on his neck, trailing little kisses down the pale skin. "What?"

"Nothing," Mark whispered, kissing her lips. He raked her fingers through her thick hair, drawing her closer. She stood up and he followed somewhat awkwardly, tripping over his shoes. They landed on his couch, Maureen grabbing his loose shirt with tight fists. He barely had time to think, everything was happening so quickly. His breath was hitched, and he could feel her hands traveling down his stomach, resting on the zipper of his jeans.

"Um, Maureen," he said quickly, and she looked down at him, raising her eyebrows.

"What's up, babe?"

"I...uh..." Mark breathed. "You know how you've never had sex with a filmmaker?"

Maureen nodded her head, and Mark sighed. "

"I've never had sex with...anyone," he admitted, blushing. "And I...I get it if you want to leave, or..."

"Are you kidding?!" Maureen exclaimed, jumping to her feet. She grabbed his arm, dragging him to his bedroom. "Someone has to show you how it's done!"

"Do I have a choice?"

"NO!"

* * *

I know that was completely lame, but my beta made me put it up. :)


End file.
